


Whatever Happened at Watchpoint: Akureyri

by Nomelah



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Reader, Honestly the lore I’m given is shit so I take some liberties, Hypothermia, I know I know I need to work on gender neutral fics too, Jack Morrison can be kind of a dick, Lots of Blackwatch headcanons, Slight Canon Divergence, but the same could be said for Gabriel Reyes, multi part fic, pre fall of overwatch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8764372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomelah/pseuds/Nomelah
Summary: "Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don't have the strength to fight it."-George R.R. MartinYour fingers had been blue and black, cold as stone, and unfeeling. Your lips were blue, and your hair flecked white with snow. Your heart was heavy in your chest, skipping two, three beats at a time. Gabe may have pulled your body from the snow, but your mind had long since been gone.As the power dynamics shift between Overwatch and its darker sibling, Blackwatch, you find yourself slipping away from who you had been before Akureyri. With your grip on control and reality loosening, you’d eventually have no other option than to let go.





	1. Northern Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will eventually make a Spotify playlist for this fic, but for now I’m just putting up songs one by one whenever they apply to a chapter. I highly recommend giving these a listen whenever they pop up!
> 
> Chapter 1: Northern Lights  
> O Death - Shakey Graves  
> https://youtu.be/1ieEXf-0o2s

Hypothermia  
You had finally stopped shivering, and a delirious sense of relief flooded over your huddled body. _I'll be okay. I'll be okay. I can't feel the cold anymore. I'll be okay._ You insisted. 

Your fingers were numb. _I'll be okay._ You couldn't feel your legs. Your ears were burning. Your hands were clenched to your chest in a last ditch effort to preserve some heat. _I'll be okay._ Snow flew into what little skin was exposed on your face, sending searing shocks of pain into your body. The gaiter neck you had pulled over your nose had frozen solid from your breathing.

 _I'll be okay,_ you lied to yourself, as your eyes dropped shut. The shivering had only stopped because your body had put all of its remaining energy into keeping your core functioning. You forced your eyes open. You had to stay awake. Your slow heartbeat pounded lazily in your ears. You were so tired. Your eyes finally fell shut.

...

"I've got a different mission for you."

Strike-Commander Morrison turned back around to face you. A tired smile flashed on his face before he continued. 

"It took me a few days, but I finally persuaded Captain Reyes to loan you to me for a job."

Your eyebrows drew together in confusion. He didn't seem to notice, or he didn't seem to care.

"Winston is attending a conference in Washington D.C., or he'd be explaining this to you. Apparently Athena has been picking up a strange pattern of transmissions from Watchpoint: Akureyi, along the Northern coast of Iceland." He picked up his holopad from the desk behind him and brought up an audio file onto the screen. "This was a weekly check-in, transmission date: 11-12-62." He pressed the button, and the familiar sounds of a log entry being played hit your ears.

_Watchpoint: Akureyi, checking in. Log date is November 12th, 2062. Experiments have proceeded with little change. Doctor Andersmith remains confident in the experiments performed here. Watchpoint: Akureyi, signing off. Good night Zürich._

You glanced up to him as he pressed the play button on a different audio file. Confusion flickered over your face at his grim expression.

_Watchpoint: Akureyi checking in. Log date is November 19th, 2062. Experiments going along with little change. Doctor Andersmith is still positive in the experiments performed here. Watchpoint: Akureyi, signing off. Good night Zürich._

He clicked play on another file.

_Watchpoint: Akureyi, checking in. Log date is November 26th, 2062. Little change has occurred in the experiments. Doctor Andersmith remains confident our experiments. Watchpoint: Akureyi, signing off. Good night Zürich._

"Winston and Athena say that all of the check in files are mashups of the file sent on November 12th. I didn't believe them until they set it through a filter. I was a bit skeptical at first. Then Athena pointed out the clink of a mug being set down after he starts the log. Same pitch and time in every video. There are more audio files shared to your holopad, if you still need more proof, you can listen to them all later. However, the most recent audio log sent from Watchpoint: Akureyi is undoubtedly one of the most interesting." 

_Watchpoint: Akureyi, checking in. Log date is December 3rd, 2062. Experiments have proceeded with little change. Doctor Andersmith remains confident in the experiments performed here. Watchpoint: Akureyi, signing off. Good night Zürich._

"It's the same as the first, right? Save for the substituted date." You murmured, eyes narrowing as Morrison nodded. "What the hell?"

"All of the transmissions since November 12 have been transmitted at exactly the same time, to the second. Before, there was some natural variation of a few minutes or so. However, this last one was transmitted 13 hours late." He paused a moment as you tried to figure it out in your head. 

"So the Watchpoint was captured?" 

"That's what we've figured. When we tried to contact one of the agents stationed up there, the base went silent. Radio dead. They're completely offline, Athena can't get into their system."

"So why not send in a squad?"

"Public image. Sending in a squad of fully armed Overwatch agents for no apparent reason? It tends to draw attention." A smile quirked at the side of his mouth as you rolled your eyes. "We send in an undercover Blackwatch agent, and nobody notices." 

"So I'm recon."

"Yup. We'll be sending you in on a plane, and you'll land in Akureyi. From there, we'll send you the coordinates and provide you with a rental car. You will have to leave the car at a certain point and walk on foot to a viewing point where you can assess the situation. If you feel confident, I want you to attempt to bring the servers back online. We need to know what the hell is going on."

You bit your lip.

"If things go wrong..."

"Then you'll be in trouble. You need to take utmost care and caution in the situation. You don't have a getaway vehicle available. Not to mention the nationwide panic that could arise at the possibility of an Overwatch Watchpoint being captured."

"Delicate situation." You mused, eyes meeting his. He nodded and continued on.

"I have confidence you can do your job." He flashed one of his poster-boy smiles. You felt your heart sink at what should have been a reassuring gesture. His crystalline blue eyes were tired. "After all, You worked under my command first."

...

You hummed quietly to yourself as your fingers drummed the steering wheel. You couldn't see all that far on the road ahead of you, the world outside of your car was a dark, swirling snowstorm. The storm had rolled in just after your plane landed. The car inched along the road, making what should have been an hour drive into a four hour drive. Your eyes skirted to the pile of snow gear at your side. Somewhere in that pile was your handgun and rifle. It was a miracle Athena had managed to persuade the airline to allow them. 

Your hands nervously tapped the steering wheel. A quick glance at your nav screen showed you had five minutes before you'd have to park the car and start walking. Pre mission jitters. _I'll be okay._

If you had thought the hour long walk was miserable, being perched atop the icy bluff looking down at the Watchpoint was hell. The sun had gone down when you were driving, and snow continued to pile up around you. The lack of sun dropped temperatures to -26°C, and that was excluding the icy wind chill from the Denmark Strait. Your heavy winter gear made you feel bulky and slow, but the white thermal cloaking fabric it was made from made you practically invisible. You pulled the gaiter neck up and over the lower portion of your face. Your thermal visor wasn't picking anything up from inside the base, and your scan of the base from up here said similarly. However, that didn't rule out the possibility of the base having been captured. Omnics gave off very little heat unless their system was overheating.

 _Why would anybody ever even want a base up here?_ You grumbled as another cold blast of wind slammed into your huddled form. Taking a deep breath, you climbed to your feet, shedding your thick outer layer and leaving you in your combat uniform. _Let's do this._

Quickly securing your rifle to your side, you clenched and unclenched your hands, squinting down at the base. Snow blurred your vision. With a deep breath in, you took a couple running steps and leapt from the cliff as you deployed the flaps of your wingsuit. 

Mercy had helped in your design for the suit, the flaps taking design influences from her wings. They were constructed of the same material, but due to the nature of many of your missions, they had some differences. Your wings were much less bright when turned on, allowing for stealth. 

Your decent was a quick glide, landing in a somersault on the rooftop of the Watchpoint as you deactivated your wings. You came up in a sprint, your rifle clutched in freezing hands. _Make this fast. In and out. Just get the systems online._

Your visor fed you information as you sprinted to the entry point, a vent in the roof. You made quick work of the hatch, ripping it from its hinges and slipping inside. There was a crackling of static from your earpiece, and you swore as it shocked you, your hand zipping to your ear to try and alleviate some of the pain. The shocking stopped, and you paused before continuing. _Were comms just blocked out?_

Shaking away the thought, you dropped silently into a hallway. Your suit was made from that same thermal cloaking technology as the winter gear, making you near invisible to heat scanners and the naked eye. You still had to be quiet. Your visor highlighted a route to the control center, and without second thought you were quietly sprinting through the halls. The power was out in here, the halls were dark and cold. 

The control center was only a few turns away. Due to the location, this base was much smaller than most Overwatch Watchpoints you'd been to. You rounded the last corner and slipped between the crack of two doors. 

_Oh God, no._

You knew there was a possibility that something had happened to the agents stationed here. If you hadn't worked with Overwatch and Blackwatch for so long, you probably would have thrown up at the sight that awaited you.

The frozen remains of the agents were splattered about the control center, painting the large circular room red and pink. For a dizzying moment, you couldn't move as your brain desperately tried to make sense of the situation.

Your time with Blackwatch made you a hardened soldier. You owed your life to it. But sometimes you hated the cold apathy that took hold of you in situations like this. Regular people couldn't respond to a slaughter like you did.

Taking a deep steadying breath in, you stepped forward, stepping carefully over a bloody arm, paying no attention to the Overwatch insignia on its shoulder. You pulled the reboot chip from a pocket in your suit and held it tight in your fist. You took a step around a frozen maroon puddle. Your visor highlighted a slot in the command console, and you knelt down to push the chip into the slot. A light flickered on, and the generators began humming as they powered back on. The Overwatch insignia flickered up onto the holoscreen, and you stood, your hand going to your ear to radio command. The screen flickered red, and you felt your stomach drop as Athena's voice came from the loudspeaker. 

"Base self-destruct in T-minus: 10 minutes. Please evacuate the premises."

...

"Her signal just went dead." 

Gabriel's hand dropped from the scarred bridge of his nose as he turned to face the blonde man. 

"Repeat that, I don't think I heard you correctly." 

He was met with Jack's solemn blue eyes. Gabriel's stomach dropped and he found himself leaning on the mission table with his hands for support.

"I think you know what I said. Her signal has just died. We've lost contact."

"Fuck. _Fuck._ "

Jack held his tongue as Gabriel swore. It wouldn't help to further anger the man. Gabriel drew a hand down his face. The Strike-Commander waited for Gabriel to speak, his eyes lowered to the mission table. Finally, Reyes spoke.

"What do we do?"

"Send in an extraction crew. Get her out while we still can. Or, we give her some more time." Jack crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowing together as he frowned. Gabriel scoffed. Jack continued talking. "I didn't say either idea was ideal." 

"Clearly." Gabriel snarled, his eyes dark with frustration. "We can't send in a full extraction crew, we've got the UN on our backs about every move we make." Jack opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Gabriel. "And we can't wait it out, because if she dies..." Reyes looked increasingly angered, a scowl set deep into his scarred face. "If she dies, we lose an important asset, _and_ the public is on our backs as to the events that transpired at Watchpoint: Akureyi."

"So we send another agent in to handle the situation."

"You make it seem like she's incompetent."

"I didn't say that. You and I both know that she's a stronger soldier than most, physically and mentally. If her signal has gone offline, we clearly need to send in backup." Jack sighed, his form slumping into one of the chairs at the table. He rested his face in his hands, his elbows pressed into the table. 

"Fine. I'm going in."

"-Gabriel, we need you here."

"Fuck off Golden Boy. We need that agent."

Jack recoiled, his face twisted with anger and his eyes fierce. Reyes was as steely as ever, an unmovable object.

"We don't know what we're walking into."

"Exactly. What better reason than to send me in. I'll get it sorted out."

This was a challenge. Jack's face fell. There was no dissuading Reyes from anything. When he finally spoke, his voice was hushed.

"I'm not fighting with you." Reyes pushed off from the table, his hands clenched into fists. His brown eyes were triumphant as he turned, making his way to the exit. 

He stood in the doorway, light pouring into the dark mission room from the hallway. Gabriel didn't look back.

"I know."

...

Reyes' eyes narrowed as he scanned the dark snowy landscape below. Snow slammed the side of the dropship. As the ship lowered, he was able to make out the form he had caught sight of in the spotlight. Debris. 

"The fuck?" He breathed, his eyes flew up to the dark horizon, scanning for the cause. Even at 15:35, the landscape was as dark as midnight. But smoke could still be made out. 

"Shit."

Upon arriving, an all-too familiar pit of dread welled up in his gut. The Watchpoint had been destroyed, smoke and flames still rising from the rubble. 

His boots crunched in the snow. There would have been no way for you to have lived through that explosion, unless you'd had a head start. His hand came up to his earpiece. 

"Athena. Read me base self-destruct protocols." Reyes dropped to the balls of his feet, kneeling over a smoking pile of rubble. He prodded it with a shotgun and a critical eye as he waited for a response. "Athena." 

Nothing. He whispered an expletive, rising up and heading back to the ship. He had to keep looking.

...

Athena's voice finally came through on speakers in the ship when he left the rubble of the crash site. 

"-Captain Reyes, we lost your signal."

"The Watchpoint was destroyed, it's a dead zone out there. I'm currently searching for her in the snow. She was wearing thermal camo, right?"

"Correct. Her uniform is made from it."

"That's making my job a lot harder. She never made it to her car, so she was stopped somewhere between the Watchpoint and that spot."

"I will analyze possible paths, but the blizzard makes it near impossible to get an accurate path."

"I was meaning to ask, self-destruct protocol states that you have 15 minutes to evacuate, right?"

"Yes." 

"Analyze the region that she could have reached from the Watchpoint within 15 minutes walking time, take into accounts the weather out here."

"It's possible she went off course in the storm, so she could be anywhere right now. I can't promise we'll find her. It is a 89% chance she'll perish in the blizzard."

Gabriel's hands clenched the yoke, his knuckles turning white. 

"Reyes, I'm only allowing you two more hours to search for her. Then we're calling it off. We can't afford for the UN to get on our backs." Jack's voice cut into the channel, and Gabriel's hand shot out to disconnect, but hovered above the button. Jack continued after a moment of silence. "I'm sorry, I-" 

"I'm not leaving until I find her."

"Gabe, listen to me." His finger was mere centimeters from the button. "Reyes I swear to God, do not hang up." Gabriel's face was set into a determined glare. "Reyes. Reyes. _Reyes!"_ There was a click as the call was ended. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. 

"Hang in there."


	2. Tile Floors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frostbite or cold burn is the medical condition in which localized frostbite may result in fingers and toes being amputated if the area becomes gangrenous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so the summary mentions gangrene which I personally think is really kinda gross to describe so if you're squeamish about that stuff, no worries, there aren't any graphic descriptions of that in this chapter. Enjoy!

A red dot pinged on the scanner, and his dark brown eyes dropped down to the screen. The dot flickered two, three times, and your name plate finally appeared on screen next to the pulsating dot. You were alive. He stared for a moment longer at the beacon before finally tearing his eyes away. _Just a while longer._ His hands tightened on the yoke as the dropship accelerated. 

If your locator hadn't powered back on, he would have missed you. When the dropship landed and he ran from the open hatch door, your body was already buried in snow. His gloved hands dug up your unconscious body. The blizzard had slowed for a moment, the storm calming into flurries. The sky was clear for a few moments, and the Aurora Borealis hung brightly in the sky above, casting an unearthly green glow onto your huddled bodies for a few mere moments. Your eyes fluttered open for a millisecond before falling shut again. The blizzard resumed, and the green glow of the Northern Lights were hidden above the furious wall of storm. 

Gently scooping you up, Gabriel carried you back into the drop ship just as the snow began to fall again. He set you down gently onto the floor, slamming the door button with a clenched fist. The howling winds were silenced as the door finally sealed shut with a hiss. He was back at your side within seconds, gently removing your visor and pulling down your frozen gaiter neck. 

Your skin was a deathly white, shaded blue and frozen to his gentle touch. Your lips were blue. Breathing a curse, his bare hands felt for a pulse in your neck. He waited there for almost half a minute before a heartbeat finally pounded into his fingers. The next pulse was roughly 45 seconds too late. 

"Fuck." He pulled away. He had to get you to a hospital facility as soon as possible. He couldn't treat you, and any Overwatch personnel who could was hours away. "Fuck. _Fuck._ " His scarred hands carded through his short brown curls, pulling off his knit hat in the process. Jack was going to be pissed. _Beyond pissed._ He stood, gingerly picking up your cold and limp form. Gabriel buckled you into one of the seats and grabbed a few blankets from a cabinet, tucking them around you as best he could. You needed to be stabilized as soon as possible. 

He turned, climbing into the cockpit and pulling his hat back on as he sat in the pilot's seat. Taking a deep breath, he glared at the comm line indicator before finally sighing and reconnecting. 

Jack must've been waiting for this, because a call request immediately was displayed on screen. He growled something under his breath before finally accepting the call.

"It's been six hours Reyes."

"Please, make your lecture quick Golden Boy. We've got an agent with valuable information in critical condition." Gabriel growled, lifting off. 

"You found her then? God, I was so-" There was a pause, and Gabriel could've sworn he heard Jack whisper something to himself. "We need to talk. Later. Right now, you need to get her to the Akureyri Hospital. Athena is in the process of contacting staff and letting them know you'll be arriving."

"Understood." Gabe lifted a hand to punch the end call button, only to pause as Jack's voice cut through the speakers again. 

"Gabe, I- thank you."

The call ended before Gabriel had the chance to do so himself. 

...

You only regained consciousness when you were transferred from the ICU back to the dropship, hooked up to several machines and strapped into a stretcher. You'd drift in and out of semiconsciousness, your sleep was haunted by images of a green sky and snow. Your few waking moments were numb and cold. You couldn't feel your arms or legs.

When Gabe finally landed at Zürich, he was met with med crews. They rushed you off to the med bay before he knew what was happening. Gabe sighed, running his hands down his face and turning to the hangar elevators. Jack would want to talk. He was tempted to drop in his room and sleep for a few years. His dark eyes scanned the hangar crew critically as they relocated the dropship. The longer he waited, the angrier Jack would be. A faint smirk etched itself into Gabriel's tired face. 

There was enough time for a coffee. 

...

"I gave you two hours to find her." Jack Morrison's face was set into a scowl. "You stayed out there for six hours, and I'm already receiving inquiries from the Icelandic Government and the UN as to why one of our dropships landed on the roof of Akureyri Hospital."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"You gave me clearance."

"Only because we had an agent close to death." 

"And yet, you only gave me two hours to search for her. Had I followed orders, she'd be dead. Do you even care? Thought you two were closer than that." Gabriel's hands slammed onto the mission table as he glared across at Jack. His dark eyes were burning. Jack scoffed, a hand coming up to rest over his eyes. 

"That's beyond the point. I gave you direct orders, and you chose to ignore them. Now I've got several organizations on my back."

"Didn't think that my presence was as alarming as the destroyed Watchpoint."

Jack sighed, his tense form visibly slumping as he sunk into the chair behind him. His crystalline blue eyes fell shut as he mumbled something to himself. Gabriel watched him for a moment longer before finally speaking.

"We need to know what happened, Morrison. Hopefully our agent can shed some light on the subject, but it'll be a few days until Ziegler will let us begin any questioning." 

Jack nodded slowly, and then again with more emphasis. 

"How's she doing?"

Gabriel paused, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. He pushed off from the table, his hands falling to his sides. Turning to leave, he shot a glare at Morrison as he was about to open the door.

"I haven't been down to look. Find out for yourself." 

He stepped out of the dark mission room, the door sliding shut behind him with a whoosh. Jack's hand dragged down his face and landed limply on the arm rest. 

"Don't think I can bring myself to do that."

...

The first sense regained when you awoke was your hearing. The low humming of machines and the steady beeping of your heart monitor seeming to find a way into your dreams. Your dreams of snow and mountains, and howling winds. And the cold. You dreamt of the bitter cold. But once you had noticed the humming and beeping, your dreams seemed to fade away, and suddenly you were somewhere else. 

Your eyes opened, and the first thing you saw was the snowy Zürich landscape. It brought conflicting emotions of comfort and fear. Your brain wasn't working. Why couldn't you figure this out? Why were you afraid? The beeping of the heart monitor quickened. And then you jolted upright, your heart now racing as you lifted up your arms from under the blanket. 

You couldn't breathe. Your eyes were wide, and a choking noise escaped your mouth as you stared in horror. _This is another nightmare._ You tried moving your fingers. But that wouldn't work. _Wake up._ You did your best to shove the blankets off of you, and in your flailing you lost your balance, slipping off of the bed and onto the cold tile floor. You landed on your forearms and knees, and your vision of the white tiles blurred as tears fell from your eyes. _Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!_

You finally found your voice. A hoarse whisper was all you could make out. 

"Help." You took a deep gasping breath, focusing all your efforts into calling out again. "Help." Tears blinded your vision. "Help!" Your voice was a shout now. A choked sob found its way from your lips.

The door slid open quietly, and you made out Angela's gasp as she found you on the floor. 

"I could use some help in here!" She called out, going to her knees and setting down her datapad. Her arms immediately wrapped around your waist in an embrace, pulling you up so your back was against her chest. "Shhh, sh-sh-sh-shhhh." She hushed you, one hand coming up to stroke your hair. You fell limp in her grasp, your sobs slowing, but the tears still falling freely. "You'll be alright." She was quiet for a moment, rocking you gently in her arms. You heard footsteps approach behind you but didn't bother to look. Angela mumbled something to the newcomer, and then there was a prick at the back of your arm. _Sedatives._

"Help me get her in her bed." You felt numb as they gently lifted you back onto your cot. 

"What happened?"

The other voice spoke, and you desperately tried to look over to see who it was. You felt so weak. 

"I forgot how resistant to sedatives the enhanced soldiers can be. She woke too soon. I didn't want her to have to find out like this..." Angela sighed, her voice suddenly quieted. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but found yourself unable to. You couldn't keep your eyes open. Angela turned back to you, a hand resting on your arm "I'm so sorry." 

...

"She's always been a strong one, she'll be fine." Angela's blue eyes rested on the holopad cradled in her arm, her fingers deftly entering info into the report. Gabriel huffed, his frame tense as he looked through the door's window into your room. 

"She lost both arms from the elbow down, and both legs from below the knee." He growled, not bothering to look back to the doctor. Angela's typing slowed to a stop, her gaze flitting up to the man at your door. 

"It was a miracle she made it out alive. She suffered severe hypothermia and frostbite, resulting in gangrene to her arms and legs. Frankly, I'm pleased she only lost what she did." Angela's eyes narrowed, her mouth turning down into a tense frown. 

"Pleased?" Gabriel growled a mirthless laugh, turning to face the blonde woman. "How can you be pleased with this?" His hand gestured to your room. Angela's frown deepened as she turned off the holopad, her hand dropping to her side.

"She's not in that room because of me, Gabriel." 

Gabriel's form stiffened, his face going blank. Angela sighed, a hand coming up to massage her temples.

"Apologies. My frustrations are not with you, although maybe you should leave. I'll let her know you visited."

"No. That's fine." 

...

The second time you woke, Angela was already in the room with you, hooking up a new saline bag to the IV. She didn't notice your awakening, and you watched her for a few drawn out moments as she tucked her hair behind her ear. 

"Angela." You voice was a hoarse mumble, but she heard it. The doctor spun around, her eyes wide. 

"You're awake." Her face eased into a relaxed smile. You returned the gesture after a moment of hesitation. The memories hit you then. Your eyebrows knit together, your body suddenly tensed. 

"My- my arms and legs..." Angela's smile faded, and her blue eyes fell to the floor. 

"I know, I'm sorry you had to find out like that." She didn't stop you as you lifted pushed away the blankets, your eyes coldly examining the bandaged stumps where your forearms should have been. Angela cleared her throat, and you glanced up to meet her eyes. "We're currently working on bionic replacements for them. We have some incredible engineers working on it as we speak." Her smile was forced. You examined her for another moment before you found your voice. 

"How did I survive?"

"Commander Reyes was sent to find you. It was approximately eight hours after the explosion when your beacon came online and he was able to locate you."

"Eight hours." You mumbled, eyes falling shut. "Why didn't I freeze to death?"

"Luckily, your thermoptic camouflaged suit malfunctioned. It reflected all of your body heat back to you until the microgenerator ran out of power after six hours. You were only exposed to extreme lows for maybe two hours." Despite yourself, you smirked. 

"I can't believe I was saved by a malfunctioning suit." A smile found its way to Angela's face, and she shook her head.

"On a different note, Strike-Commander Morrison would like to speak with you on the topic of the mission report. I told him it would be another day before I had you back in order, but if you feel you can report to him right now, I'll call him down."

You bit your lip as a wave of guilt washed over you. _That's right, the mission report._ You looked back up to Angela, a weak smile on your face. She cut you off before you could say anything though.

"Only if you feel comfortable enough to do so. He doesn't have to know."

You nodded, the forced smile falling from your face. 

"I'll leave you to get some rest." She turned, her high heels clicking on the tile floor as she made her way to the door. Angela was almost gone when you called out to her.

"Hey, Angela?"

She paused the door, her gaze turning back to you.

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I s2g this chapter is kinda lame just because of all the jumping around. It would've been longer but I couldn't tolerate putting another jump in there. Anyways, the next chapter will be here soon! The muse has returned!!


	3. Three More Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too much free time leaves you an irritable and generally displeased person.

The lights in Strike-Commander Morrison's office were too bright, blinding and hot on your skin. The strike-commander seemed unable to meet your eyes as you finally sat stiffly into the chair across the desk. His blue eyes fell instead, on your bionic arms perched on the armrests of your chair. You swallowed, dropping the metal replacements to hide beneath the desk. His eyes shifted away quickly enough to make you believe he'd been staring at his holoscreen the whole time. The clock on the gray wall behind him silently changed to 17:00. You'd been in his office twice before, but the room only served to make you feel trapped. The thin layer of dust on his desk showed he felt similarly. The strike-commander tended to do his office work in his private quarters. The fingers of your bionic hands tapped together, making dull metallic clicking noises. Strike-Commander Morrison's eyebrows knit together, and you halted your movements, your breath hitching. 

"It says in your mission report that the base was abandoned?"

You forced yourself to take a deep breath.

"Whoever infiltrated Watchpoint Akureyri was gone when I arrived."

Morrison's blue eyes flicked to meet your eyes for a split second before shifting back to the holoscreen. The office was painfully quiet. You found yourself watching a squirrel scurry up a snowy branch outside. 

"Did they know we were coming?"

Your eyes widened, flitting to the man before you, staring at Morrison for a couple of seconds before you tore your eyes away. You finally found your hoarse voice. 

"I- uh." You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. "I couldn't recover any data from the Watchpoint. They'd sabotaged the systems to self destruct with any interference."

"Could they have infiltrated us from a separate location?"

You frowned, a bionic hand coming up to run through your hair. The metal was cold on your scalp. Dropping your hand to your side again, you chose your words carefully.

"Whoever infiltrated the watchpoint would have had to get past Athena and all of our security protocols. It's an impossible task if you don't have direct access to the computer boards. Besides, that theory wouldn't explain why the agents stationed in Akureyri were dead."

Morrison sighed, leaning back in his chair with a heavy grunt. The chair rolled back a few inches before slowing. His hand came up to massage the bridge of his nose.

"Right." He grumbled quietly under his breath. Your throat was dry. You swallowed difficultly before finally forcing the words from your lips. 

"What were they experimenting on?" 

Your question left you in a rushed flurry, but he understood. Morrison's eyes met yours for the first time that day, piercing and crystal blue. You were unwavering, refusing to shy away from his suddenly confrontational gaze. The strike commander shifted, his hand dropping from the bridge of his nose. 

"That's above your pay grade." 

You tensed, eyebrows drawing down over your eyes angrily, but a stone settled in your gut. Whatever happened there must’ve been some bad shit. Fighting back the urge to say something you'd later regret, you forced yourself to lean back into your chair and loosen your taut muscles. 

"It's sensitive information that I'm not permitted to share with you regarding the Omnic crisis."

His eyes shifted back to your report on his holoscreen. Your eyes remained glued on him.

"Was that all, Strike-Commander?"

The title was spit out as insult, and at the moment you said it you felt conflicting emotions of guilt and satisfaction. He'd winced. A barely noticeable movement, but you knew the man too well. He nodded, putting up an unfazed front. 

"Dr. Ziegler and Torbjörn Lindholm have sent me reports authorizing you for the advanced bionic replacements you asked for. As promised, Overwatch has payed for the expenses. Talk to Dr. Ziegler later today."

You stood up, the chair making a harsh scraping noise against the hardwood floor. Jack Morrison stared at the chair for a moment before returning to your report. You turned, unwilling to say any more as you left the office. 

...

Your bionic legs created sharp metallic noises as you stormed through the halls of the Watchpoint. This morning you decided you weren't going to wear your usual Blackwatch fatigues, opting instead for your running shorts and black sweatshirt. You hadn't bothered with shoes, you figured they were pointless now. The thought of your tennis shoes sitting by your door still gave you an uneasy gut feeling. 

Shoes wouldn't be used for a while though, you hadn't been cleared for any training yet. The gym was off limits, as was the shooting range and the track. It left you feeling even more frustrated than before. Ziegler had refused to sign you off until you had your new bionic limbs installed. You had flown through bionic replacement therapy, "one of the quickest adjustments I've ever seen", according to the physical therapist. Apparently you just had a natural inclination to it. But Ziegler wanted to play it safe, so any strenuous physical activity wasn't allowed. You'd respect her decision, but you wouldn't be happy about it. 

You'd had your fair share of injuries in the four years experience with Overwatch, and then the two years with Blackwatch, but rarely had you been prohibited from using the training rooms for over a couple days. You never really realized how much you'd relied on training to keep busy. After a mere couple of months with Overwatch and becoming the sole survivor of your original squad, you learned to distance yourself from your teammates, putting up a wall to prevent growing too close to any of them. Unsurprisingly, this left you isolated. Free time was what you came to see as a horror. You sighed as you resolved to keep yourself busy.

The glass double doors to the medical wing were always open. Ziegler's office was hidden away in the back hallway. If the Watchpoint halls had seemed quiet, then the med bay was a black hole today, so devoid of noise to the point where your ears rang. You hated the Overwatch medical wing in Zürich. The walls, floors, ceilings, and any medical supplies were all a staunch, blinding white. It gave you a headache. You felt out of place. 

Your metal fingertips gently tapped on the door frame of Ziegler's office. She'd left the door wide open. Her thin, lab coat-clad frame was hunched over a datapad, her fingers quickly flipping through reports. As head of medical staff, she rarely had free time. Half empty coffee cups and datafiles were scattered over her desk. At your gentle knock, she jolted upright, her blue eyes wide as she looked to you. She hastily shut down the datapad in her hands, placing it on the desk quickly. You flashed a hesitant, half grin. She smoothed her face over into a pleasant expression.

"Ah hello, apologies. I didn't notice you there. You are here for the appointment regarding bionic limbs?"

You nodded quickly, your face set neutrally. There was a sharp glint in her eyes. She smiled again, fast enough that you thought you might have imagined it.

"Unfortunately, Herr Lindholm is on leave and cannot assist in the replacement process, so I'm scheduling your surgery for three weeks from today, when he returns. He wishes to replace your current implants with implants that will allow for interchangeable limbs."

Your gut dropped. Three more weeks? Three more weeks before you could even get the replacements? You fiddled your fingers, . 

"This also means that your access to any training facilities is restricted for three weeks. I've already told this to Captain Reyes, so don't even think about attempting to get around me on this." A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as a scowl was plastered to your face. "I will allow leave from the base though. Already approved by Strike-Commander Morrison." 

"Thank you Angela." You forced a smile onto your face, and she returned the gesture before turning back to her desk. A perfectly manicured hand brushed stray hairs back behind her ear. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you had been dismissed. She quickly glanced back up to you, a smile flashing on her face.

"Enjoy your time off." 

You took that as your invitation to leave the office. 

...

Taking leave in Zürich had no appeal, only serving to remind you of the four long years you spent with Overwatch here. The city was beautiful, but you hadn't missed it. Transferring to Blackwatch division meant you'd been stationed at the hidden Watchpoint in the foothills of the Alpine region, maybe an hour or so outside of Zürich. That place had become your home. This city became a prison. 

At 01:12 in the morning you found yourself staring up at the ceiling. Ever since you'd been discharged from the medbay, you'd been plagued with dreams of snow and glaciers. You'd had your fair share of nightmares while working with Blackwatch. There were some horrors that would haunt you for the rest of your days. Whatever happened in Akureyri was no exception. You closed your eyes only to see flashes of frozen gore strewn about the watchpoint. Phantom pains in your arms and legs woke you with a sweat. 

A deep sigh escaped your lips. You drew your cold metal hands down your face, holding them there over your mouth before sitting up with a yawn, swinging your legs over the side of your small and uncomfortable bed. You stood up, hand pressed into the wall for support. Former service with Overwatch and working directly under Captain Reyes meant you received your own dorm, rather than sharing with a squad mate. You grabbed the sweatshirt from the end of your bed and pulled it on. Your bionic feet carried you to the door, and for a moment you stared down at your shoes, pressed neatly up against the wall. A scowl plastered to your face. You punched the door command and left the small room.

The mess hall was empty at this time of night, but the lights were always kept on. They didn't serve food either, so you made do with a bottle of water and a snack from the vending machine. You slumped down at one of the tables, staring dead eyed down at the table. You were only snapped from your stupor when someone slid into the chair across from yours. You jolted upright, nearly spilling your water. Reyes sat across from you, his eyebrows drawn down over his dark eyes. His face looked harsh in this light, his scars and angles only looking more severe under the too-bright lights above. You quickly smoothed over your startled expression.

"You're supposed to be on leave." His voice was a low grumble. What would've been an accusatory tone from anyone else was simply inquisitive coming from him. You'd worked closely with him for six years, coming to understand his quirks. His eyes dropped down to the coffee in his hands. He drank his coffee black. 

"I don't want to be in Zürich." You mumbled, taking a couple sips of your water.

"Neither do I." He mused, taking a sip of the coffee. Conversations with your commander were often hushed and subdued, but not uncomfortable. Your bionic fingers tapped the table absentmindedly as you found yourself staring off into space again.

"I can't sleep." You mumbled under your breath as he took another slow sip of his coffee. He hummed in acknowledgment, steadily putting the mug back onto the table.

"Can't? Or don't want to?" Reyes' eyes traced over your bionic limbs before finally falling on your tired eyes. An exhausted smirk tugged at your lips. 

"Both I guess." You mused. The man across from you rumbled with low laughter. 

"Me too." The minuscule smile that was on his face dropped and hardened as he examined you. "You're upset about the Akureyri mission."

Your eyes came into focus and you realized you'd been staring at the Blackwatch logo painted on the far wall. Your gaze shifted onto him. 

"Yeah." Reyes' stare burned into yours, but he remained silent. All the rage you had let snowball ever since you woke up in the medbay threatened to spill. It would be so easy to get angry at him. To get angry at Morrison and at Overwatch. 

"Information regarding the Akureyri mission was purposefully withheld from my briefing, presumably because Overwatch is operating outside of the law. As a result of their carelessness, an entire Watchpoint was killed." Your voice steadily raised in pitch until you realized you were nearly yelling at your Captain. You quickly clammed up, expecting some form of rebuke from your commanding officer. His expression had softened however, and he began to open his mouth as though he had something to say. You waited expectantly, but he seemed to decide against whatever it was he had on mind. Reyes’ face hardened. 

"Angela Ziegler sent me some of your medical reports today, you are allowed leave until the day before your surgery. Your access to training facilities has been restricted." He took another drink of his coffee before continuing. "However I know that restricting training facility access will only serve to piss you off, so I'm lifting that restriction. Don't let her find out." Gabriel gave a quick smirk, finishing his coffee and standing up from the table. You watched him with a dumbstruck expression plastered onto your face as he left the canteen.

Thank god for Gabriel Reyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon mon français mais Holy Fuck that chapter took forever to write Jesus Christ. I'm pretty sure I went insane. I got stuck at the part where reader leaves Jack's office for like multiple weeks. I hope this reads okay. Anyways, please please please leave a comment on how you feel about this chapter. I acknowledge that I'm needy, but honestly there is nothing that makes an author's day like reading the comments people leave. The comments keep me writing holy shit just comment anything. Tell me what your favorite food is or something I don't care. Love y'all <3 Nomelah


	4. Empty Files

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've been trying to get these onto a more regular updating schedule, but I've also been super busy with my destiny blog lately and it has just been a MESS. I finally got a comic out for it though, so I can chill for a bit and focus on this fic. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!

Your bionic hands clicked against the laser rifle as you shifted it in your grasp. The low whirring of your charged rifle hummed into your bones, emitting a low whine. You squeezed your eye shut, peering down through the scope as you lined up the crosshairs with the target. Your metal finger shifted onto the trigger, and taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself for a moment before exhaling as you pulled the trigger. The laser shot rung out like lightning, leaving the smell of ozone in the air. The gun was silent while uncharged. Your bionic limbs absorbed most of the recoil, serving only to piss you off. You'd been ignoring the fact that you weren't okay. Everything you'd once done was entirely different with these bionic replacements. 

You'd created this rifle during your second year with Overwatch. There wasn't another gun in the world like it. You used it primarily as a sniper rifle, charging it up with a hand crank. After a close call with an omnic almost taking you out from behind while you were sniping, you'd modified it to have hand-cranked auto rifle capabilities akin to a Gatling gun. Winston had pestered you for weeks after doing so, grumbling about the inefficiency of a hand cranked gun, but you knew he was secretly impressed.

You stared down the way at your target, where a scorched mark was barely visible from this distance. Looking back through your scope showed that your shot hit one of the outer circles. You swore, a metallic hand coming up to rub at your face. Your game had been off all morning. You could attribute it to the two hours worth of sleep, but you knew sleep wasn't the only problem right now. You glanced at the watch on your wrist. 04:25. You'd gotten maybe two hours of sleep after talking to Captain Reyes in the mess hall before you finally got fed up and came down to the shooting range to work out some stress. 

You hated practicing inside. It felt cramped and unnatural, but the downtown Zürich Headquarters where you were stationed right now didn't have an outdoor range. One of the downfalls of being stationed in a major city. 

You stood, grabbing your rifle from the ground next to you. Your thoughts were drifting back to Iceland. Something was deeply wrong about what you stumbled upon. Who had infiltrated the Watchpoint? How had they bypassed security systems and how had the agents stationed there died? Those weren't the only questions plaguing your mind. Your thoughts often wandered to the strike-commander and his words. You were high on the chain of command, serving directly under Morrison and later Reyes. Most of the goings-on in Overwatch you had knowledge of. So what was above your pay grade? Did your captain know what was happening in Akureyri before infiltration?

You stared down at the rifle in your bionic hands for a second before slipping the sling over your head and positioning the gun comfortably on your back. It was a heavy weapon, and it took weeks of strength training to be able to snipe standing up. Now it wasn't the weight of rifle sinking you down.

The door whooshed shut behind you as you left the range. You needed something to occupy your mind with, and shooting wasn't helping. _"There are more audio files shared to your holopad, if you still need more proof, you can listen to them all later."_ Morrison's words from a few days ago returned to your mind, and your eyes narrowed. 

God, you could be such an idiot.

...

As soon as you entered your dorm, you locked the door behind you, propping your laser rifle up against the doorframe. You snatched up the holopad from your desk, robotic fingers fumbling to turn it on. You made a mental note to yourself to ask Torbjörn to add better grips to your new arm models.

Sinking down into your metal desk chair, you tapped the first audio file as soon as it loaded on the holoscreen. Some muffled Icelandic chatter was in the background, and someone shushed the perpetrators. 

_"Þegiðu, Þegiðu."_ There is a pause and the woman speaking takes a breath, seemingly to start her report when there is an uprising of cackles and the woman yells again. Your lips pull up in a grin before you remember why you're listening to these files. The woman's yelling grounds you. _"Àlfur, komast út!"_ The laughing fades away, and the woman begins her report. Her voice is lightly accented as she speaks. 

_"This is Watchpoint: Akureyri in Northern Iceland, logging on for the first time. It is the 12th of February, 2061. The base is in working order. The 24 droids provided are now all functioning. Upon powering up, we found an error with droid designated A17. Our mechanic, Àlfur Ólafursson, was able to repare the droid's optic feed without too much trouble. All 150 crates of emergency supplies have arrived, and I have attached the register of all received shipments with this report. Field agent Ynja Hrafnsdóttir logging off."_

You closed the audio file, tapping on the register below. A long list popped up on screen, but nothing caught your eye as you skimmed through the shipments. Closing the register, you opened up the next report. You needed to find something about the doctor stationed there. 

It would be an hour's worth of audio reports before finding any information vaguely interesting or relating to the doctor. You'd started to zone out, fiddling wth your metal extremities.

 _"-Doctor Delilah Andersmith arrived at 02:20 PM today, and her lab has already been-."_ You jolted upright, brushing hair out of your face and quickly rewinding the audio file to the beginning. This was the first time Dr. Andersmith was mentioned, right? _"Hello Zürich, Watchpoint: Akureyri signing on. The date is 9-10-61. Doctor Delilah Andersmith arrived at 02:20 PM today, and her lab has already been set up and prepped for her studies. We will ensure of her and her work’s security here in Akureyri. Thank you, Agent Hrafnsdóttir logging off."_

"Yeah but what the hell was she studying?" Your eyebrows knit together and your fingertips drummed into the metal desk. You glanced at the time. 05:45 AM. The mess hall would be serving food now. As if on cue, your stomach rumbled. You sighed, shutting off your data pad and climbing to your feet. You had more than a few weeks to figure this out. A break wouldn't hurt. 

...

Early morning breakfasts were a common occurrence with Overwatch and Blackwatch alike. At 05:30 in the morning, the caf was already packed with agents. As Blackwatch was an unofficial division, you rarely had to stay in Zürich with the Overwatch agents. Every time you were stationed here while under Reyes' command, you were met with new agents, inquisitive about the elusive Reyes and his second in command. Very few agents even knew about Blackwatch's existence. To the newcomers, you were just another high ranking official stationed in some unknown Watchpoint. 

You took a slow sip of your coffee, watching a group of rookies a table over as they roughhoused, laughing and playing around over their meals. They reminded you of original squad mates when you'd been recruited. You set the coffee back down onto the table, halfheartedly taking a bite of your oatmeal. 

"Hey, haven't seen you in a while." A man slid onto the bench next to you. You remembered him from your Overwatch days. He was one of the original members, he'd been doing this since the beginning. His name was escaping you. He ran a hand through his slicked black mohawk, a grin on his face.

"Likewise." A faint smile tugged at your lips. His dark eyes fell onto your bionic replacements. He leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck as he mumbled.

"I was sorry to hear about your accident. I heard Blackwatch is brutal." The hairs on the back of your neck stood straight up. You returned a smile hesitantly, mumbling a thank you. He sat up straight again, an almost pitying smile on his face. Climbing to his feet to leave, he patted you on the back. "See you around."

A deeply unsettling feeling knotted in your gut, leaving you cold and dreading. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d missed something in the brief conversation. Your eyes fell on your bowl of oatmeal. You weren't so hungry anymore.

...

You ran into Strike-Commander Morrison while on your way to the hall of records later that morning, his hands white-knuckled from the force he held to his datapad with. You didn't meet his eye, and he paused to examine you. 

"Update on the bionic replacements?" His voice was stiff. You felt small under his blue eyes.

"Three weeks until I get my new models. I've been permitted leave until then." You spoke evenly, your gaze meeting his. He nodded.

"Why are you still on base then?"

"I hate being here in Zürich." He forced back a smile at your bluntness, instead straightening his posture and adjusting his grip on the datapad.

"Where are you headed?" Uneasiness pricked in the back of your neck, but you forced yourself to remain neutral. 

"The Hall of Records." His eyes narrowed. "I'm studying bionic limb care. Doesn't hurt to be prepared." You flashed a dead smile, your eyes hollow. He returned the gesture a little too easily. Too practiced. 

"Before I forget, Gabriel was assigned to a mission in the Southwestern United States this morning. He'll be back in a week or so. He told me to tell you." He presented another smile. "Nice chatting with you." 

And just like that, the Strike Commander was gone. 

The Hall of Records was proving to be completely useless. Whatever the Akureyri Watchpoint was doing was clearly highly confidential. You'd looked up everything you could think of in the database. Iceland, Doctor Andersmith, North Sea... nothing. Any info you could draw from the library was something you'd learned from your debriefing before the ill fated mission. 

Your fingers tapped nervously into the desk. You'd found a relatively hidden holo to use, but every sound set you off. You couldn't help but shake the feeling that discovering the Akureyri studies would only dig you into a pit. Something was off here. 

A new name dawned on you, and you typed slowly into the keypad. Overwatch kept profiles on all its official agents. You hit the enter, staring nervously at the screen. 

_Hrafnsdóttir, Ynja._  
STATUS: Field Agent; /entry.deleted/.  
DOB: 05-04-34  
SEX: F  
HAI: BK  
EYE: BLU  
HGT: 1.67m  
WGT: 58.9kg  
STATIONED: Watchpoint: Akureyri. Worked as - - --------- --- -- ------- ----------. /error/. /entry.deleted/. 

You swore under your breath. Every file related to Watchpoint: Akureyri had ended with huge chunks of missing data. Doctor Andersmith's file had been completely erased, her name was gone from any records, never mentioned once. The info had to be stored somewhere. Overwatch didn't just delete files like this. That was Blackwatch's job, and as far as you knew, Blackwatch had no involvement in whatever happened in Akureyri.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms as a deep sigh escaped your lips. This mess was just getting stranger and stranger. You were at a loss. If the Hall of Records didn't have anything on Akureyri, that meant it was kept confidential from most standard Overwatch agents. You'd never heard of any Blackwatch activity out there, but clearly you weren't in the loop as much as you had previously thought. Reyes hadn't alluded to knowing anything about the Watchpoint, and Commander Morrison sure as hell wasn't going to share anything any time soon. But if anyone had the files on Akureyri, it would be Jack. Your mind wandered through scenarios and options, however everything you thought of was simply a sure fire way to get court-martialled. 

If a member of an illegal military program even _could_ get court-martialled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter is short and boring (tbh it might just be because I reread it like 8 times), but it's a necessary evil. I just needed to get this out of the way. Next chapter things will be heating up a bit. We've got some incoming drama.
> 
> ...
> 
> Also! The laser rifle in the beginning of the chapter! If any of you played Fallout 4 and Destiny, it's like a weird combo of the Laser Musket and Queenbreaker's Bow. Aesthetics of Queenbreaker's Bow, functions of a modded Laser Musket. I'm a nerd.


	5. Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter, but it's a chapter nonetheless.

The transport shuddered in the turbulence, lurching you from your dreamless sleep. Your eyes flew open as you jolted upright, the harness digging into your body and sending you into a panic. Your heart thudded in your chest, feeling hollow against your ribs. A breath caught in your throat as your eyes finally fluttered around the airship before resting on your duffle bag strapped into the seat across from yours, your laser rifle tucked securely behind it. Heartbeat slowing, you forced yourself to rest back into the seat. 

_That's right. Zürich is behind me._

Your eyes shifted to the window, the transport was descending through the gray expanse of clouds, it'd only be fifteen more minutes until you were back on solid ground. A sigh escaped your lips as a dark bionic hand drew down your face. How long had it been since you were here in the foothills? A month? Two months? The ground came into view as the dropship descended. The foothills were a tough, rocky land. Snow still coated the ground. Blackwatch headquarters were set halfway into the side of one of the mountains, in a remote part of the foothills only accessible by plane or foot. It was a restricted airspace, and pardoning the Overwatch dropships, it felt almost completely detached from the outside world whenever you went on your night runs. You loved these mountains. 

The dark base came into view as the dropship rounded a corner. Your eyes slid shut again, your mind drifting back to Zürich. Your stomach turned uneasily. You were living on borrowed time from the moment you had decided to take matters into your own hands. You were unsure of how long it would be before someone discovered your actions, but the moment it happened, you would be court martialled and removed from Overwatch, possibly sent to a holding facility. There wasn't a doubt in your mind about that. A dragged out sigh escaped your lips as you warily examined your duffle. That data chip held some info that the top brass didn't want you to know.

The dropship door hissed, lowering to make a ramp on the helipad. You took a deep breath, metallic fingers fumbling with the seat buckle for a few moments before finally unclasping it. You weren't wearing shoes, and your bionic feet clicked against the dropship floor as you crossed the aisle, grabbing the few things you had and stepping off the transport. A frigid gust of mountain wind slammed into your face, stinging your nose and eyes. You swiped your tongue over your lips, instantly regretting it when the wind whipped your hair to get stuck there. 

Reyes stood at the edge of the helipad, his eyes trained on you as you left the dropship, duffel over your shoulder and laser rifle strapped over your chest. The airship engines were deafeningly loud, causing gusts of wind to slam into your frame and blowing your hair around your face. Reyes' clothes whipped against his body, but he remained unyielding as he watched you approach. The dropship lifted off, leaving you with Reyes. 

His honey eyes examined your new replacement limbs as you approached, a difficult to read expression on his face. He waited for you to reach him before holding his hand out for your duffel in an offer to carry it. Your brain knew this, but the paranoid and irrational part of your mind flashed to the concealed holodrive tucked away. You shook your head. He nodded silently, falling in step with you as you stepped off the helipad, making your way to the door. 

"How'd your mission go?" You murmured under your breath, eyes ahead. 

"We cleaned out Deadlock Gang in Route 66. Picked up a kid, he's a damned good shot." 

You bit your tongue, eyes narrowing. Why were you just now hearing about this? You'd been assigned to the Deadlock issue several months back. The fact that you weren't in charge of that anymore was understandable, due to the all-too-recent near death experience in Iceland. But why the _hell_ weren't you informed of the mission progress or the change of management?

Reyes brought his ID wristband up to the door scanner, but before it could read it your hand grabbed his. Reyes' head snapped to you, a wary glint in his eyes, but he didn't pull away. 

"Why am I being cut out of the loop?" Your eyebrows knit together over narrowed eyes. "I know it's happening. Don't lie to me like everyone else has been."

He paused for a moment, his expression hardening and his hand falling from your grasp. "Is this about Deadlock... or something else?"

"Deadlock! It was my assignment!" You burst out, dropping the duffel bag to the dark cement. You faltered for a moment. "Deadlock- but that's not really it. It's like no matter what happens, I'm always last to know. I don't know if something happened- or if any of you still trust me!"

"What are you talking about?" His tone was suddenly defensive, his frame tensing. He was hiding something.

"I used to be in that inner circle with you guys. Served directly under Morrison, and then transferred to be your second. But everyone is cutting me off. I don't understand what I did. And so I'm constantly second guessing myself. So what the hell is going on?"

Reyes seethed outwardly, but his eyes held a different emotion. He knew something, you realized. He knew why this was happening. 

"Stand down immediately." He snapped, his hand lifting to the scanner and allowing the wristband to be read. Your face resumed neutrality, posture relaxed as you ducked down to scoop up the duffel bag and sling it easily over your shoulder.

"This game won't last forever, Commander." You mumbled. His head shifted a fraction towards you, a dark look on his face. You kept your gaze forward, stepping into the base. Reyes silently followed suit, coming up next to you. 

"You'll be in charge of training the recruit I picked up. I'll introduce you two after you drop off your bags." 

"Understood."

Your bionic feet clicked on the polished floor, sharp in comparison to the dull footfalls of his heavy combat boots. Reyes' eyes burned into the prosthetics. 

"Those are pretty high tech."

"Lindholm designed them. They make the old ones seem like trash. Thermocloaking, electromagnetivity, super heating. There's hardly any comparison." Your words were curt and to the point. Reyes was quiet a few seconds, your footsteps echoing in the hallway. 

"You didn't get skin grafts for them?" His voice was strangely cautious, and your eyes narrowed as you glanced up at him. 

"I'm not a member of Overwatch. I don't have a family to go home to. What's the point of hiding this?" You murmured, lifting a sleek dark silver hand and waving your fingers. The lights overhead glinted sharply on the metal. Reyes watched for a second. 

"Apologies."

Opting to keep your mouth shut, you shifted your bag over your shoulder and onto the other. You rounded the corner, passing by the mess hall. The sounds of subdued conversation filled your ears, a comforting white noise. For a brief moment, your thoughts were drowned out by the sound before being brought back to the surface as you passed the open room and continued on to the dorms. 

"What are they like?" You finally asked, eyes remaining glued forward, unwilling to look at your companion. The man glanced down to you for a moment before mirroring your actions and keeping his eyes forward. 

"Hm?"

"The recruit. What do I have to work with?" Your footsteps echoed in the halls, a sort of clicking shuffle. You hated that noise. _Lindholm couldn't have fixed that?_ Reyes sighed, tucking his hands into the pocket of his Blackwatch sweatshirt. 

"No former military training. Previously a member of Deadlock Gang, sharpshooter. He's reckless and charismatic. Bad taste in fashion." This got you. Your eyes flicked up to him, an incredulous expression plastered onto your face. 

"I don't follow?"

"You'll see." One of his rare smiles twitched up at the corner of his mouth. _They used to be like that._ You noted suddenly, eyes studying his profile for another moment before sliding evenly back to the hall. _So genuine._

Several more turns through the halls put you at your door. The orange holotag lit up with first lieutenant and your last name as you approached, glowing warmly against the gray wall. You held up your ID to the scanner, waiting a moment for it to process. Reyes waited outside as you slipped into the dark room.

This dorm was just as sparsely decorated as your Zürich one, but maybe twice the size. Not that it mattered, you didn't have much stuff to put in there anyways. You hefted the duffel bag onto your bed, hastily unzipping the front pocket and scrounging for the tiny data chip. 

Panic rose in your throat as your bionic fingers failed to find it. Unzipping it further, you tugged it wide enough to see in. No chip.

"Fuck." You whispered, moving to the next zipper and tugging it open, tossing your fatigues and other belongings out onto the neatly made bed.

"Everything alright?" Reyes' voice came from behind you, causing your fingers to jolt as you whipped around, back to the duffel bag. Your captain's frame was huge in the doorway, blocking out the light. His arm reached out to the light switch, flicking on the lights and entering the room. Your eyes had to adjust for a moment, while his golden ones narrowed. 

"Yeah." Nodding, you turned back to the bag, swiftly zipping it back up and folding the fatigues you'd thrown out earlier. "Yeah- I think I just forgot my data pad in Zürich." Reyes studied you for a moment, his gaze scrutinizing. You swiveled back to him, your ever-present neutral façade returning to your face. Reyes hesitated another moment, his eyes shifting to your duffel bag and back to you. Your mouth was dry. 

"Alright then. Let's go." He nodded, and you had to suppress a sigh of relief as you hoisted your rifle into a more comfortable position on your shoulder. 

...

As it turned out, Reyes was right about the new recruit having a horrible taste in fashion. He was decked out Clint Eastwood style, as if he'd walked right out of one of those century old vids. Your Captain handed you his datapad as you peered into the recruit's holding cell. Tearing your eyes away from the anachronistic man inside, you glanced up at Reyes and back down to the datapad, a frown forming on your face. The recruit's picture was at the top of the page, his dark eyes boring into you. He was undeniably handsome, in some strange rugged way, regardless of that ridiculous outfit. 

_McCree, Jesse._  
STATUS: -  
AGE: 03-12-42  
SEX: M  
HAI: BR  
EYE: BR  
HGT: 1.85m  
WGT: 66.9kg  
STATIONED: Foothills 

Your eyes caught at his age, failing to proceed down the page. You struggled to keep your expression neutral as you handed the datapad back to your partner. This guy was seventeen. What the hell was he doing here? Reyes' eyes studied your face for a moment before he held up his ID to the door scanner. 

"It was us- or lifelong imprisonment. He made his choice." You scowled, glaring at the man at your side. 

"That wasn't much of a fucking choice Reyes! He's not even a legal adult, the hell is he doing here?!" Gabriel's eyes were dark. If Morrison were here he'd drill you about language. Reyes was not Morrison. You might've had more history serving under the Commander, but Reyes got you. Well, maybe he used to get you. A sigh escaped your lips, as you dropped your head into your hands before dragging them down your face. "Sometimes I'm not so sure we're the good guys anymore." You finally murmured, your eyes on the datapad in his hand. Reyes didn't answer, and you'd probably never know how he felt about Blackwatch's increasingly inhumaine actions. A necessary evil. You understood that more than most, but it didn't mean you had to like it. His eyes shifted to the door controls as he punched the release pad. 

The door slid open with a whoosh, McCree jolting up, his hand flying to where his gun would've been. You raised a brow, shifting your weight onto your other leg. A coy grin slipped onto his face as he made eye contact with you. McCree grabbed the rim of his hat, tipping it to you as he slunk back against the wall. 

Reyes turned to you, giving a small nod before leaving the holding cell. You leaned into the wall, crossing your bionic arms. The laser rifle slung over your back dug into the skin between your shoulder blades.

"You've got yourself some damn fancy replacements." His grin was wolffish, his eyes glinting darkly in the dim light. They were dark brown, almost black in this lighting. Although the rest of his form was relaxed, there was a deadly alertness there. You held up an arm, eyes narrowing.

"Like them?" 

"Now 'm not saying that I want one o'em. How'd it happen?"

"It got cold outside." You shot back, a smirk forming on your face. Jesse laughed. 

"Think 'm gonna like you."

"You don't know me yet." His grin fell slowly, replaced with his ever-analyzing gaze. You paused as his eyes scanned you, lingering on the rifle strapped to your back. "I'm Captain Reyes' First Lieutenant. I'll be in charge of your initiation and training." You stood up straight, uncrossing your arms and heading for the door. "Let's go." The cowboy shuffled to his feet behind you, his ridiculous spurs clinking with every step. _He's got to get a uniform soon, cause that's gonna drive me insane._ You thought to yourself, rolling your eyes as you shut the door behind the both of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates have been as slow as a slug, I apologize. Life got really hectic in April and May, some stuff went down with my ex-girlfriend. But I'm out of school, so updates should be a lot faster!! I have been working on a lot of fics lately, but I've been jumping from fic to fic like wildfire, so the next update for this won't be for a while. I hope you enjoyed, leave a comment and let me know what you thought.  
> I kinda envision this Blackwatch HQ to be in a place like this, with the base set halfway into a mountain.  
> https://goo.gl/images/HZbSQn <3


	6. No Sender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic is already tagged M, but as a warning, there is some gore in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *updates almost a year late*  
> I’ve been reworking this whole fic, and subsequently have been going back and editing old chapters. It’s not necessary to reread them, as I only changed small details that will allow for more clarity later on with where I plan on taking this. However, I would recommend rereading these chapters, as it’s been a long while since I last updated. Thank you all, and enjoy <3

The foothills were silent, the clouds dark up above. It was the type of quiet that always preceded an incoming blizzard. The cold air was reminiscent of blue fingers and numb skin, causing phantom pains in your bionic limbs. 

You’d been outside for the past hour, supervising Jesse’s training sessions. It had only been a month of training with him, but the improvements were already beginning to show. His obstacle course days left little for you to do, save for shivering and quietly observing as the boy struggled to complete his twelfth lap. But he never complained.

You could easily see why the commander wanted Jesse McCree to join Blackwatch. The boy was no fool, quick as a whip, and his ranged weaponry skills were on par with those of some of Blackwatch’s best snipers. He could disassemble and reassemble a revolver in under thirty seconds. He was a quick learner, and had adapted with ease to his new life. The kid had some grit to him. He’d go far with Blackwatch. It was almost a shame he’d never be known for it.

That all said, you kept him at arm’s length. The boy was ever analyzing, shooting out quick little digs, constantly trying to find that chink in your armor. He wanted to evaluate the power balance in this partnership, and then shift it as far towards himself as possible. You knew and appreciated the game he was playing, you played it every day in Blackwatch. It was simply a matter of maintaining a mask of calm collectedness, and yet never letting him know that you were doing so. You could do that with ease.

After he finished the twelfth lap, you stopped him before he could start into the next one, allowing him a break. He acknowledged you with a grunt, trudging over. Steam left his mouth in white puffs as he heaved for air. Absentmindedly you picked up his water bottle to toss it to him. Jesse snatched it out of the air without problem, his eyes scanning you warily, a direct contrast to his laid back and easy facade. The boy seemed to shrug off his mood as he realized that he cared more about a break than evaluating you. He took a quick swing of the water and leaned rested against the concrete wall you had been propped up on. 

A snowflake fell on his hand. His head fell back, dark eyes staring up into the sky. You followed his gaze, watching as more snowflakes made their steady descent. One fell on your cheek. You winced at the bite. If the boy noticed, he didn’t mention it, his head remained tilted up at the clouds. 

“This is snow?” He mumbled. You hummed in response, pulling a gloved hand from your pocket to wipe the now-melted snowflake from your cheek. 

“It’s colder than I thought it would be.” He paused, his eyes slipping shut. “It never snowed back in New Mexico.” Jesse’s head dropped, his gaze falling to your gloved hand. You pointedly ignored this. He noticed, but didn’t care. “Bionic limbs don’t get cold.”

You shrugged. Lately it had been bothering you more, the phantom pains and dysphoria. You’d become removed from the sleek dark limbs. They’d ceased to be replacements and started to be alien to you. 

The snow had started falling in large clumps, sticking to the two of you. As it accumulated upon the ground, your anxiety built up with it. McCree’s dark eyes were on you, examining your subtly tensed form. You pretended not to notice and pushed off of the concrete wall, glancing back to the kid. 

“We're done training for the day.” A grin stretched on his tanned and freckled face. Your face remained neutral. “Let’s grab some lunch.” 

... 

“So y’aint a fan of the snow.” He teased, his tray clattering as he set it down on the table. Jesse slipped into the chair across from you. You took a slow sip of your coffee, put it back onto the table and readjusted yourself. Jesse shoveled a forkful of mac and cheese into his mouth.

“Not particularly.”

Jesse’s eyes flicked down to the gloved bionic hand resting on your crossed legs. After a tense silence, he swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I figured ya lost’em to an omnic with knives for hands, or some shit like that. Y’all crazy Blackwatch types, y’know?” He was grinning, but his eyes were cold. “Did ya lose it in the cold? Tame, boss.” The kid took another bite of his lunch. He wanted to play it that way?

“Knives for hands, I’ll have to send that idea on over to Lindholm in Overwatch. Do you think I should ask for each individual finger to be a little knife? Or for my whole hand to be one big cleaver sort of thing?” 

Jesse stared at you for a moment, his chewing paused and his eyebrows drawn down in confusion. There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth as he tried to hold down a laugh at the image of knife hands. He was failing. 

“Have you ever seen that old movie Edward Scissorhands?” You inquired evenly. 

He burst out laughing, spitting half chewed macaroni and cheese onto the table. You curled your upper lip in disgust. A couple of other agents in the caf glanced over. Jesse was full on cackling, holding a hand over his mouth to prevent from losing more food to the table.

“Well don’t choke.” You sneered, lounging back into your chair with a pointedly lazy disposition. He flipped you off, still struggling to control himself. A genuine grin tugged at the corners of your mouth. You’d let him get away with it for now. Jesse took a couple more moments seemed to get himself under control, wiping his face with the back of his hand. You passed him a napkin.

“Clean up your mess.” 

The boy mumbled something you didn’t catch. Your datapad chimed with a notification, and your attention shifted downwards.

 _wake up_

You stared down at the notification for a moment, taking another sip of your lukewarm coffee, before finally picking up the datapad to open it. A blank space was where the sender’s name should have been. Your eyebrows knit together.

“What is it?” Jesse’s face was straight now, his eyes hard. 

“There’s no sender.” The chime of a new notification pulled your eyes back down. A vid was uploaded. Jesse got up, walking around the table to look over your shoulder.

The video was black. There was a shuffling somewhere in the background, you might’ve heard a sob. The camera lens must’ve been covered, as a pair of omnic hands came away, and the camera focused on the worn wooden floor beneath it. The hands came into view, spasming and convulsing in a way that made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

The hands were vaguely humanoid, but designed in such a way that looked like someone’s vague impression of what a human might look like. They spasmed violently, the fingers arching backwards, and then dug into the floor, splintering wood. Six twisted, wickedly sharp, and claw-like silver fingers on each hand, with something that maybe looked like a thumb on each side. You were taken with them. There was another whimper in the background. 

You were vaguely aware of Jesse mumbling something, but you couldn’t tear your focus from the vid.

The omnic’s focus jolted up, zeroing on a dark form in the corner. It shook, attempting to back away from the camera and further into the corner. The omnic lurched forward unnaturally, and you realized the form was a human. There was a nasty gash and bruise forming over her left eyebrow, and blood flowed freely into her eye. One of her shoulders was bent at a bad angle. Her dark hair was a mess over her face, barring a clear view of her. The camera arched back to look at the ceiling light, the horrible hands covering the lens again. There was a shuffle, and the camera snapped back down to the girl.

She’d draw a gun, and just as the camera seemed to lurch forward, she fired. The omnic stumbled backwards, angling its optic downwards to examine its now-bleeding shoulder.

“Shit.” You breathed. “It must be a cyborg’s memory files.” 

The cyborg’s hand came up to feel the blood, coming away dark and sticky under the poor lighting. Their attention shifted back to the girl. Her back was to the cyborg, and something was in her hands. The cyborg slowly rose to its feet, its focus never leaving her. It was silent as it crept closer. You silently begged for her to turn around, feeling powerless to stop what you already knew was going to happen. 

The cyborg lashed out, its dark talons outstretched for the exposed back of her neck. She ducked at the last moment, dropping whatever had been in her hands with a clatter, coming up to slam the cyborg off balance. The cyborg stumbled. Its head snapped back to the woman. She was bent over a holopad on the floor. 

The cyborg leapt forward, knocking the woman onto her back and straddling her waist, its legs pinning down her arms. You caught a flash of a familiar marking on the woman’s black shirt. The woman strained against her attacker, her grunts hoarse as she attempted to fight back. The cyborg leaned over her torso, coming up within inches of the woman’s face. It’s inhuman hand brushed the mess of sweaty and clumped black hair out of the woman’s face. 

Something in your gut told you you had met her before. You knew those eyes, and you recognized that expression. Where you expected fear, you found only rage. 

The cyborg’s cruel finger brushed up the side of her face, cutting a thin red line into her cheek. Dark beads of blood formed along its path. She only snarled. The hand lifted gently from her skin, floating over to one of her angry dark eyes. It hovered for a moment, and then seemingly in slow motion, pierced a wicked finger into her eye. The woman shrieked as blood spurted up into the camera. You had to look away, feeling your gut clench and a chill shoot up your spine. The woman’s sobs and shrieks continued on. Your gaze returned after they faded away. The hand had pulled away, and the cyborg arched back, seeming to convulse again. 

There was a pause and the camera snapped back down to the bloodied and marred woman, following her gaze to the holopad. An upload was in progress. The cyborg lashed out, its bloodied hands flying to her vulnerable throat. It didn’t end her life quickly, choosing to instead squeeze slowly around her thin neck. The woman wheezed, gasping for air. The cyborg readjusted itself, tightening its grip. She freed her good arm, coming up to claw in futility at the cyborg’s face. 

There was a clatter, and the cyborg’s view settled on a discarded mask on the ground. A look of horror dawned on the woman’s strained expression. The sclera of her one eye was turning red with burst blood vessels, and she had begun shaking. 

“You’re... dead.” A chill went down your spine. Her voice was raspy, barely a whisper. You weren’t even sure you heard her right. Her dark eyes settled on nothing, hazing over as she finally went limp. The cyborg stood up as though nothing had happened, gently picking up the holopad in their now bloody and dripping hands, stopping the upload. 

The vid cut out, and you were left staring at the black screen of your holopad. Your mouth was dry, you could feel your blood pounding in your ears. 

You jolted to your feet, the screech of the chair on tile lost to you. Heads turned, all eyes on you as you struggled to compose yourself. Jesse slowly took a step towards you. You hadn’t even realized he’d backed up. His hand was outstretched. A shaky breath. His hand rested on your arm. 

“Hey, time to snap outta it.” 

Your free hand clenched and unclenched. A lump was forming in your throat. 

“You wanna tell me what’s happenin’?” 

You pulled away, leaving his hand hanging in the air. Another shaky breath. You swallowed down the 

“I’ll see you tomorrow for sparring.”

You’d left the caf before he could ask anything else, your thoughts racing. 

The walk to your dorm gave you too much time to think, but it also gave you time to collect your thoughts. You’d need to inform Commander Reyes immediately. Finding the sender’s IP and the identity of the cyborg was critical. The identity of the woman would be easy enough to figure out, she’d been wearing a Blackwatch issued shirt. You’d start there first. 

Your thoughts ran faster than you could follow. You struggled to maintain your cool exterior as you passed others in the halls. There was a sickening feeling in your gut that if you didn’t act soon enough, something awful was going to happen. Your attention dropped to your bare feet, focusing on just keeping it together a little longer.

You slammed into someone. 

Your heart kept into your throat, stumbling to keep balance. Their hands solidly gripped your forearms, catching you. An apology started to fly from your lips as your eyes flew up. 

_Gabriel._ The commander’s face was strained. His dark gaze reached your face, and a quick grin, barely pulling at the corners of his lips, found its way to his face for a moment. The lines in his face were harsh and pronounced. Your tongue stuck in your mouth. He took a step away, and you managed to remember what you’d been thinking. You recovered your composure.

“We need to talk.” 

His gaze flicked down to his datapad, a frown set into his features. 

“Can you tell me while I’m getting to the hangar?”

“It should be in private.”

“I’ll be back at 0800 tomorrow morning.”

Your expression set. Reyes hesitated. His hand gripped your shoulder gently, warm and burning a hole through your black sleeve. His words were hushed.

“I’m sorry.” Reyes paused. “For a lot. I-”

“Don't be late. We'll speak tomorrow.”

He opened his mouth as though to say something, but decided against it. His hand released you, nodding briskly and going on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By reworking this fic I’ve created a much more streamlined plot, which /should/ decrease the time between updates, but again no promises. I’ve been extremely busy with graduation. Thanks for putting up with this garbage loves.


End file.
